


A Karat of Patience

by Ava_BellaDonna



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band)
Genre: 2010s, Exes, F/F, Female Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Sexual Tension, Strained Friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_BellaDonna/pseuds/Ava_BellaDonna
Summary: After years spent alone in the English countryside, Christine slowly returns to Fleetwood Mac, her music, and her past love.
Relationships: Christine McVie/Stevie Nicks
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the concluding series in the trilogy following Solo lll (In Sausalito) and Down All Your Darkest Roads. If you haven’t read those, I strongly suggest you do for context and background ☺ A huge thank you to Katy for being my Beta and coming up with the title for this fic, it’s a combination of 24 Karat Gold by Stevie Nicks and Patience by Guns N’ Roses. Enjoy!

The doorbell resounded through Christine’s house at exactly one o’clock. Her travelling companion was uncharacteristically on time. She dragged her two suitcases into the foyer and stopped to pick up her travel tote back resting on the foot of the staircase. She threw it over her shoulder and paused to gaze at the beautiful Steinway piano in her living room—an old friend willing to welcome her back into its arms when she was ready. And while Christine was not quite there yet, she began to feel stirrings of inspiration and creativity she thought were long gone.

Christine heard the doorbell again, jolting her from her reverie as she remembered she had somewhere important to be. She swiftly walked over to the door with her luggage and opened it, revealing the larger-than-life Mick Fleetwood on the other side.

“Mick, love, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, letting go of her suitcases to envelope her close friend in a generous hug.

“You too, my girl.” Mick held her cheeks in his big hands and scanned her face happily. “How is it you still manage to maintain a permanent tan while hiding out in the grey depths of Kent?”

“I have a tanning bed in my house,” Christine joked. “Do you think I could give the Californians a run for their money?”

“Oh, they’d be _green_. Are you ready to go?” Mick asked her while he took her things out the door.

“Yeah, let’s get a move on.”

She followed Mick down the long path to his awaiting hire car and watched in amusement as he easily lifted her heavy suitcases and tossed them into the boot.

Mick noticed her smirking. “What’s the joke?”

“Sixty-five years old and still as fit as ever.” Christine reached out to squeeze his bicep.

“Clearly all those years of drinking like a fish and doing miles of cocaine have paid off.” Mick winked.

Mick drove Christine to the end of her driveway, where she got out of the car and opened the front gate. She looked back at her impressive home and took in the ivy-encrusted brick walls and the dainty French windows. The Quaives was both a sanctuary and a devil’s playground that held too many memories to count. Christine wondered what new purpose it would serve when she returned.

Thanks to Mick’s maniac driving, they flew through the ramshackle cottages and pebbly by-lanes of Wickhambeaux in what seemed like seconds. But Christine wasn’t too fazed. She had had plenty of time to say goodbye to her chocolate box village, and the promise of sunny skies and sparkling blue oceans were more exciting.

“Thanks for flying out with me today,” she said to Mick.

Mick shrugged and didn’t bother to check his blind spot as he merged onto the highway. “Don’t mention it. I’m glad you’re coming.”

His tone was light, as if they were discussing a small favour he’d agreed to as opposed to a monumental event in Christine’s life: her first plane trip in fifteen years since crippling aerophobia took ownership of her life. Christine appreciated his casual approach, and she remained calmly determined about the afternoon ahead.

“What’s the latest?” Christine asked as Mick jerked the steering wheel sharply to get onto the fast lane.

“Oh, blimey, where do I begin?” Mick chuckled richly.

Christine smiled at him. “Anywhere. Doesn’t have to be chronological.”

Mick went on to speak passionately about his booming restaurant in Maui and decadent vineyard in California. His marriage was on the rocks but he was coping. Christine listened intently to her old friend talk and felt more connected to his stories and experiences than she’d been in years. Generally, whenever her friends spoke about their lives, it was like a muffled song playing outside the impenetrable walls of isolation she had built for herself. But now, Christine could resonate with Mick’s sense of accomplishment and quickly caught his infectious enthusiasm for life. It was an incredibly cathartic feeling.

“Those two are working on an EP as we speak,” he announced.

Christine didn’t need any clarification as to who “those two” were. “Really? I never thought they would record material as Buckingham Nicks again.” She flicked a piece of lint off her skinny jeans dismissively. “Good for them.”

“Oh, no, it’s for Fleetwood Mac. John and I haven’t done a whole lot but we’ll be touring regardless.”

Christine quizzically raised her eyebrow at him. “Sounds like the Lindsey and Stevie show backed by you and John.”

“Yes, John and I are mere shadows swaying in the background,” Mick said sombrely. “But their wailing theatrics bring in the big bucks, so I can’t complain.”

Christine shook her head and laughed. “Well, for the sake of your wineries and restaurants it’s probably a good thing they will never change.”

“Precisely!” Mick paused. “Have you spoken to Lindsey or Stevie, at all?”

“I haven’t spoken to Stevie since Christmas,” Christine replied. “She texted me a photo of her and Sulamith wearing Santa Claus hats. Or rather, Karen sent a group text to everyone in Stevie’s contact list.” She retrieved her iPhone from her tote and quickly scrolled through her messages until she landed on Stevie’s photo. She briefly studied the songstress’s smiling face before holding up the phone for Mick to see. “Here.”

Mick tore his eyes away from the road and smirked at the screen. “Ah, yeah, I remember that. That’s definitely Karen’s work because Stevie communicates via her flip phone or landline like it’s the 1970’s. She absolutely _refuses_ to engage with technology more than she has to.”

“No surprises there.” Christine threw the phone back in her bag. “Did you tell them I’m coming to Maui?”

Mick shook his head. “No. John hasn’t spilled the beans either.”

“I know he hasn’t.” Christine smiled to herself at the thought of her ex husband who still remained a big part of her life.

“They probably would love to see you. Especially Stevie.” Mick glanced furtively at Christine from the corner of his eye.

“And I would love to see them, too,” Christine responded lightly and reached over to change the radio station. “Anyway, tell me more about what your blues band have been up to.”

“We’re performing a couple of shows when I return and they’re quite casual. Maybe you might want to join us?”

Christine was quiet for a moment and thought about her Steinway piano waiting at home and the potential it held. She wanted her reunion with the keys to be a private moment, not one shared with the public.

“No, I don’t do that anymore,” she declined. “But I’ll definitely come and watch.”

“That’s fine, darling,” Mick said before promptly cutting across three lanes of traffic to take the next exit.

Christine winced at the chorus of angry horns behind them. “I just need to survive your driving first.”

* * *

Two hours later, Christine sat comfortably in Mick’s plush private plane waiting to depart. She drew in a sketchbook that lay in her lap while Mick tried to get settled next to her.

“No Valium pump, Chris?” Mick asked in an airy, jokey tone as he tossed a cushion off his seat.

“Fuck off,” Christine answered playfully. “Your faith in me is inspiring.”

Mick leaned in to plant a big kiss on her cheek and Christine smiled before turning her attention back to her artwork—a dreamy scene featuring a group of mermaids wading inches above the ocean floor. They swam in a dazed half-asleep state, reminding Christine of how she had floated aimlessly through life over the past decade and a half.

Christine kept sketching while the plane began to taxi and she reflected on everything that had kept her underwater for so long. The agoraphobia, drinking, Codeine dependence, and the hollowness following a failed relationship had separated her from the rest of the world. At her worst, she had felt broken and devoid of human emotions. So much so that drifting soullessly amongst the mermaids was addictive and preferable over reality.

Just before take-off, Christine erased the blank expression off one of the mermaid’s faces and replaced it with one that bore a hint of mischief and mirth. She thought the mermaid to look a bit like Stevie, with sparkling brown eyes that dared Christine to break away from her sisters and soar out into the world where she truly belonged.

Christine barely heard nor felt the bumps under the aircraft’s undercarriage as they steadily travelled down the runway. She closed her eyes and felt herself swimming, harder and faster until she broke away from her murky past and finally reached the surface. Christine opened her eyes to the blue sky surrounding her and realised she was airborne, with a soul thought:

‘God, I’m free.’


	2. Chapter 2

Dawn broke to the east of Oneloa Beach and bathed the puffs of clouds floating over the ocean in a pale pink glow. Christine stood on the shoreline and watched the frothy waves lap over her feet in shimmery hues of violet and cream. The air had a crisp bite to it, and Christine wrapped her woolly cardigan tightly around her body as specks of salt clung on to her eyelashes—a gift from the ocean breeze. The lulling motion of each receding wave reflected Christine’s own measured thoughts as she dug her feet into the moist sand, her toe-ring sparkling as it hit the light cast by the rapidly rising sun. She wriggled her toes through the thick granules, enjoying the feel of the rough texture against her skin.

The beautiful island had done wonders on Christine. She sported a permanent golden tan from endless days spent in the sunshine and her blue eyes matched the cerulean Maui skies. Christine hadn’t felt so alive and in love with life in a long time, and with Mick’s band performing at the Maui Arts and Cultural Center that night, Christine wondered whether she could surprise herself by doing the unthinkable.

Christine had accompanied Mick to a few gigs and watched on from backstage. The energy was palpable as Christine tapped her foot in time to the music with a glass of wine in hand. The stage lights weren’t as harsh as she’d remembered, and the cheers from the small crowd were enticing and warm. Christine had found herself itching to join them to take her rightful place behind the keyboards and play as if no time had passed at all.

She turned away from the magnificent view and drove barefoot back to the house. The sand felt pleasant between her toes and the now fully risen sun shone spectacularly on her face, illuminating her blonde hair and warming Christine to her bones. She still couldn’t fathom the 180-degree turn she had made, from rattling around alone in her sprawling house in Kent to finding her spark again in the magical island of Maui. Anything and everything seemed possible.

Christine was making herself a cup of coffee when she heard her phone ping. Her smile grew wider as she read the text message from John, telling Christine he couldn’t wait to see her later and wishing her a great day. The prospect of being with John and Mick—her boys who had stuck by her from the very beginning—gave Christine the final push she needed, and she quickly called Mick’s house phone before she lost her resolve.

“Mick speaking,” he answered crisply.

“It’s Chris,” she replied while she drummed her fingers nervously on the countertop.

“Oh, morning. It’s a bit early, isn’t it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about your offer earlier.” She took a deep breath. “Would you like me to sing?”

“Sing what?”

“Tonight, with your band. Like you suggested.”

Mick was silent for a long time as he tried to comprehend the news. It wasn’t often he was rendered speechless and Christine couldn’t help but laugh to herself.

“Of course you can!” he shouted in delight, his booming voice causing Christine to nearly drop the phone. “I can’t believe it! What changed your mind?”

“I don’t know, Mick,” Christine said. “I just want to. I’m feeling good and I think I’m ready. Don’t ask me any more questions or I might fucking chicken out.”

“Noted! I’ll pick you up at 5 and we’ll go to sound check together?”

“Sounds good.” Christine smiled.

“I’m excited for you. Wow, Chris, welcome back.” Mick stated proudly.

“Thanks darling, I’ll see you later.”

* * *

Half an hour before show time, Christine sat with the band in the Green Room backstage and tried to quell her nerves. She took a few deep breaths and thought about everything she had achieved over such a short amount of time. She had boarded a plane and left the country, and she finally felt safe to roam around in wide, open spaces. Christine pictured the marvellous sunrise over Oneloa Beach and reminded herself she was deserving of great things.

Christine was going over her internal mantra when a pair of strong, tattooed arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Christine, love, look at you!” John McVie exclaimed into her ear. “I’m so chuffed you’re doing this!”

Christine grinned and leaned back to give John a peck on the cheek. “I’m so glad you came, Johnny.”

“Of course,” he said and pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “You look spectacular.”

“Thanks,” Christine replied. She had spent the afternoon rummaging around her suitcase for a last minute stage outfit and liked the end result. She wore a pair of blue skinny jeans paired with a white singlet and black blazer. The look differed greatly from what she used to wear on stage, but Christine felt the days of red velvet jackets and sequined mini shorts were long behind her. “I’m trying something different.”

They spoke for a little while until their stage manager announced it was time. Christine felt her heart beat wildly in her chest and shakily stood up.

“You ready, Chrissy?” Mick asked her as he playfully slapped her knee with a drumstick.

“That Valium pump is looking really good, now,” Christine replied honestly. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“You’ll be brilliant,” John assured and took her hand as they all walked out of the room and into the wing.

Mick’s plan was to bring Christine onstage unannounced so she waited behind the curtain with John by her side. Christine peered out into the audience and felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through her spine. The crowd was enthusiastic and vibrant and she could feel their energy pulse in time with the music. Christine knew then and there that her nerves were inconsequential, and she was going to have the best time on stage.

Mick made his way to Steven’s microphone and winked at her. Christine smiled brightly in return. She was ready.

“I would now like to introduce a very special lady,” Mick began. “She came all the way from England with me.”

The crowd cheered and John gently pushed Christine towards the stage.

“Please welcome on stage, Ms. Christine McVie!”

Christine stepped out of the shadows and took Mick’s hand as he led her to the awaiting keyboard. She sat behind it and waved at the audience while Rick and Steven came to hug her. The stage lights twinkled and she was reminded of the sun’s rays dancing across her face while she drove through the hilly Maui roads that morning. The similarity was comforting and Christine lightly glided her fingers over the smooth keys, soaking in the magic around her and feeling more at home by the second.

“Thank you very much!” she said into the microphone and beamed at the sound of the rowdy applause before her.

Christine played the opening chords and began to sing, hesitantly and shyly at first until she fell into a comfortable rhythm that set her heart soaring. Her voice came out smooth and velvety like she had never taken a fifteen year long break and when she found her confidence, Christine moved her shoulders and shimmied in her seat, throwing smiles at the audience and having the time of her life

By the time the band ended with _Don’t Stop,_ Christine’s eyes sparkled with the magnitude of her first stage performance in fifteen years. As her fingers danced over the ebony and ivory keys, she rediscovered something she thought she didn’t need anymore. Her graceful hands lifted off the keyboard as Mick fired into his cymbals, marking the last beat of the concert and the turning point of her life. She ran her index finger down one of the keys, unwilling to let go of the musical instrument that had welcomed her back. It turned out she had never said goodbye to music and performing—it was always waiting for her.

Christine stood up from her beloved keyboard to take her bows. She blew kisses to the front row while her adoptive band mates surrounded her. Christine hugged them happily, still in disbelief over what she had accomplished and feeling certain this wouldn’t be the last time she would be on stage.

Christine McVie was back.

* * *

A few hours later, Christine stood on Mick’s balcony with Mick and John and listened to the waves crash against the rocks below. She sipped her beer in contemplation while her body still buzzed from the aftershocks of the evening’s show.

“So what’s next for you, McVie?” Mick asked her. “I can’t imagine you slinking back into retirement after tonight.”

“I know. I can’t imagine it either.” Christine took a long swig of her beer. “It felt good being onstage and now I know I’ve been missing out on something—something that’s _mine_ and I can’t believe I completely gave up on it.”

“It’s never too late to start playing again, Chris,” John told her gently. “It’s just a question of who you want to play with.”

Christine smiled softly. “I think that question answers itself, really. But are Fleetwood Mac ready to have your keyboardist back?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Mick squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure the other two members would feel the same way.”

Christine was silent and turned her attention back to the striking sounds of the waves below: A soundtrack of chaos and calamity not unlike the dysfunctional world of Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. Was she ready to throw herself back into the storm? After tonight, Christine quickly learned that nothing was unachievable.

She turned away from the roaring ocean and smiled mischievously at Mick and John. “How do you feel about going to L.A with me to find out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Thanks to Katy for beta-ing and helping me make Christine’s first time on stage in more than a decade a more felt experience.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Christine!_ ” Stevie Nicks squealed as she leapt into Christine’s arms. She was a whirlwind of blonde hair, cheeky smiles, and a presence so powerful it left Christine momentarily breathless. “Oh my God!”

“Hi, Stevie,” Christine replied weakly as she grasped Stevie’s back.

Stevie held Christine’s hand as she pulled back to sweep her gaze over her form. “Wow, you look gorgeous, hon.”

“So do you, darling.” Christine smiled. Stevie wore her usual ‘stage ready’ outfit: a black leather jacket over a loose black blouse paired with ruched black pants and her signature platform boots. A pair of half-tinted aviator sunglasses were perched on top of her glossy blonde locks. “I swear you never age.”

Stevie beamed and drew Christine in for another hug, taking a moment to give her a soft squeeze that was long overdue. Christine looked over the top of Stevie’s head to see Lindsey Buckingham eyeing them warily. Christine quickly let go of Stevie, suddenly feeling like she had overstepped an unspoken line of propriety between the three of them. Lindsey casually stepped closer to the two women, and Stevie shot him a beatific smile in return. With that exchange, Christine didn’t need any more inferences that Lindsey and Stevie had resumed the ‘on again’ aspect of their tumultuous relationship.

She suddenly felt the need to make Lindsey feel as non-threatened as possible. With a warm smile, Christine slung an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“Hey Linds, it’s great seeing you,” she said as she rubbed his shoulder, a gesture she knew would calm him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good,” Lindsey answered in his soft-spoken voice. “Stevie’s right, you look fantastic.” He grinned at her, his demeanour relaxed by his sisterly touch, and Christine was pleased to see his smile reach his eyes.

“Thanks.”

The band and Christine had agreed to meet at _Locanda Portofino_ , a homey Northern & Southern Italian fusion restaurant in Santa Monica that was highly recommended by Stevie. The eager maître d ushered them all inside and they were led to their secluded table.

“Here, Stevie,” Lindsey said, pulling out a chair for her and promptly sitting in the one next to it. Christine smirked to herself and took the seat opposite them beside John and Mick.

With the efficiency dedicated to ‘Big Deal’ customers like Fleetwood Mac, a waitress materialised to place a set of menus in front of them. They quickly perused the drinks and collectively ordered bottles of Perrier.

“Nice to see we’re all still on the sober wagon,” Christine noted amusedly.

Lindsey shrugged and gave Stevie a sideways, steely look. “Stevie still smokes pot.”

“Only when I write and nothing crazy,” Stevie said and rolled her eyes before smiling at Christine. “Anyway, tell us about your performance in Maui, Chris. I heard you were incredible.”

“I guess the beans have been spilt.” Christine gave John and Mick a mock disparaging look.

“They should know about it!” John said.

Christine blushed. “I truly had the best time. I was nervous at first, but when I started playing, it was like getting back on a bike after not riding for ages. It made me realise how much I missed my keys and playing music in general.”

“She was fucking great.” Mick smiled at Christine proudly.

Stevie reached out to squeeze Christine’s hand. “I wish I was there, seriously. Next time you perform, I’m gonna be there. ”

Mick and John chuckled conspiratorially.

“What?” Stevie glanced at them back and forth. “What’s so funny?”

Christine kicked John under the table. She was waiting for the right time to pitch the ‘Big Question’, and she didn’t want the Dynamic Duo blowing it for her.

“Nothing, they’re being idiots,” Christine said dismissively as their waitress approached the table with their drinks. “Let’s order our food, shall we?”

The waitress gave a few recommendations and Christine, John, Mick and Lindsey decided on their meal. Stevie, however, was stuck between the spaghetti alle vongole and the penne alla siciliana but settled for the linguine positano. She gave specific instructions about how the shrimp should be cooked and Lindsey huffed impatiently.

“Did you seriously have to, like, make noises and roll your eyes like that?” Stevie muttered at Lindsey when the waitress left.

“It’s annoying listening to you give instructions when you barely know how to cook, yourself.”

“Stevie, do you remember when we met you and Lindsey for the first time and you took ages to decided what you wanted?” Christine reminisced light-heartedly, trying to diffuse a potential argument. She hadn’t come to L.A. to listen to Lindsey and Stevie argue over shrimp. “It was between fajitas and some rice dish.”

John laughed. “If that place still existed we could have gone there.”

“Absolutely not,” Stevie said and shook her head. “It was barely up to standards.”

“Plus it’s nauseatingly cheesy to have your reunion with Chris at the place we first met you two,” Mick quipped. “Too on-the-nose.”

“I actually think it fits with Stevie’s love for symbolism perfectly. Very poetic.” Christine winked at Stevie and she gave a comical snort in return.

Discussions turned to Fleetwood Mac’s latest project and as Christine listened to Lindsey and Stevie talk about it in gushing tones, she knew her initial observation of the band as it now stood was right—Fleetwood Mac were turning into the Buckingham Nicks revival backed by John and Mick. Maybe her presence could provide a much needed balance? Would Lindsey be affronted? Christine could feel herself overthinking the different scenarios. But as she laughed and bantered with her ex-band mates, Christine realised the magical bond they shared was still as powerful as ever. So powerful it overshadowed any anxieties she had.

Lindsey apparently had the same feelings. “Can I just say, I think the chemistry around the table is so fantastic,” he expressed as the food arrived and they all dug in. “I’m very happy I came out tonight.”

“Me too,” Christine agreed brightly, putting her fork down and taking a sip of her water. “It’s lovely seeing you and Stevie again. It’s been too long.”

“So, what’s next for you, Chris?” Stevie asked her. “I doubt you’d wanna go back to your old life when you feel so good after being on stage again.”

Christine glanced at Mick who gave her a pointed look that screamed _“Tell them now!”_ But it was Stevie’s genuine interest that spurred Christine to take the plunge.

“Well, I was wondering what you guys would think about me re-joining the band?” she began. “I could play with a little band if I wanted to. But the truth of the matter is, I can’t imagine playing with anyone besides you lot. You were a huge part of my life and I can’t let go of that. I was kidding myself when I thought I could.” Christine let out a breath and waited while Stevie and Lindsey absorbed the bombshell.

Stevie stared at her, the last part of Christine’s speech hanging between them like a delicate chain unearthed from an old jewellery box. Christine’s heart beat fast under the intensity of her gaze, and she was reminded of a past romance when that gaze was reserved solely for her. Stevie’s eyes burned with recognition and Christine jerked her face away from her, pretending to rearrange her fringe until she was sure the heated moment had passed. She tilted her chin up at Lindsey, his expression indiscernible as he regarded her carefully.

“It’s a huge commitment, Christine. And your timing throws us off. We’re about to cut a record and go on tour. Are you sure you’re serious about this?”

“Of course she is!” Mick boomed.

“Yes, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I wouldn’t have asked you if I was on the fence. And I’m happy to wait.”

“It’s your band, Chris,” Stevie chimed in, her eyes sparkling with overwhelming sincerity. “You don’t have to ask. It’s your band, McVie. Fleetwood Mac- _vie_? Right?”

Lindsey sighed while Christine smiled softly to herself. Her last name being connected to the band was a simple fact she hadn’t thought about in years.

“So, it all depends, Chris, on you. How you feel. Do you want to take this on again?” Stevie asked her.

Christine twirled her straw in her glass. Flashbacks filled with fatigue, alcohol dependence and burnout briefly seeped into her optimistic state of mind. But she remembered she was miles away from her past self, and so were the rest of the gang from their own demons. Their glowing, relaxed demeanours tonight proved it.

“I definitely am but I understand I have a lot of work to do,” Christine conceded. “So, whenever you want me, I’m willing.”

“Okay, well, we’ll reconvene soon to discuss what your return will look like,” Lindsey said. Christine could tell he remained unconvinced.

“Her return will look like ‘Christine Mcvie returns to Fleetwood Mac’. What else would it look like?” John asked dryly.

“It’s okay, Johnny,” Christine murmured to him, she had anticipated a wary reaction from Lindsey and was fine with it. At least it wasn’t a flat out ‘fuck no’.

Mick quickly turned the conversation to tamer topics—his Maui restaurant, Stevie’s upcoming television work, John’s yachting. They finished the rest of their dinner, the night winding down naturally as Stevie paid the bill despite Christine’s fruitless protestations. Lindsey was the first to leave, saying he had to go home to Kristen and the kids. A clang of Stevie’s rings against her water glass followed Lindsey’s comment, and she looked around the table apologetically.

“Christine, you have my contact details, right?” Lindsey asked as Christine got up to give him a hug goodbye. “We’ll stay in touch.”

“Of course!” Christine said as she ran a hand through his curly hair. “Thanks for seeing me, I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” he kissed her cheek and waved at John and Mick before bending down to kiss Stevie goodnight. She lowered her eyes and Lindsey took the directive, kissing her on the top of her head. “Bye.”

“See ya.” She gave his retreating back a withering glare before composing herself. “Chris, do you want to hang out for a bit? I told my driver to pick me up at ten.”

“That would be lovely, I’m in no rush,” Christine replied.

“Well, we’ll leave you ladies too it, then,” Mick said as he and John got up. “I’ll see you back at my place, Chris.”

Christine and Stevie gave the men parting embraces before smiling excitedly at each other. Stevie chose to sit in John’s empty chair, facing her body towards Christine so their knees were practically touching. The slow burning table lantern illuminated Stevie’s face in hues of smouldering gold, more pronounced now that the restaurant’s lights had been dimmed to match the late evening ambience.

Christine raised her eyebrow at Stevie. “So what was all that about?”

“What are you talking about?” Stevie’s tone was casual, but Christine was not one to be easily fooled—Especially by someone she had known for thirty-eight years. The way Stevie maintained eye contact with her was too painstakingly steady to be honest.

“You and Lindsey and that little performance. Not just when he left, but this whole night has been…interesting.”

Stevie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, making this EP has brought us close to each other again. It’s always weird returning to the band after doing a solo album, and he wrote _Sad Angel_ to help me get back in the groove. He’s still an asshole, though. Did you hear that shit about me not being able to cook? You know I can cook, you’ve seen me cook.”

“Yeah,” Christine said flatly. She thought about Stevie making oddly shaped pancakes in their house a very long time ago, and suddenly wished she hadn’t brought up Lindsey at all. “I know you can cook.”

“It is what it is.” Stevie exhaled exasperatedly. She took in Christine’s disinterested face and changed the subject. “I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the guys, but how was it like flying for the first time in ages?”

“It was fine,” Christine answered. “My therapist had really desensitised me to flying, so I didn’t feel a thing. Remember how I was like during my last tour with you guys? Yeah. None of that.”

Stevie lightly ran her hand down Christine’s arm. “I’m so happy to hear that, babe. I can see you’re totally different than before. You were born to play beautiful music and I’m thrilled you’ve found it again.”

“The last time you saw me was—urgh,” Christine shuddered, still embarrassed about her full-blown panic attack backstage at a Mac concert in 2009. She was supposed to join the band for _Don’t Stop_ but was overcome by excruciating anxiety.

“Don’t worry about it.” Stevie gave her a sympathetic look before grimacing. “Oh my god, you really _shouldn’t_ worry about it. You’ve seen me in a much worse state, multiple times.”

“We’ve both had our moments, to say the very least.” Christine chuckled darkly.

Stevie’s giggle was interrupted by the obnoxious, tinny ringtone of her phone. Christine watched in shock horror as Stevie flipped open the out dated cell to take the call.

“Shit! I didn’t realise its ten, already. My car is outside,” Stevie said as she snapped the flip phone shut. She noticed Christine sniggering and stared at her. “What?”

“You really need to get with the times, Stevie. Why on earth do you not have a smart phone?” Christine asked through her quiet laughter.

Stevie rolled her eyes. “I hate cell phones and Face Space, they ruin everything.”

“Face Space? You mean Facebook? Jesus, Stevie!”

“Whatever. I don’t care about any of it.”

“I have different views, but that’s another conversation for another time if you have to go,” Christine said as they pushed their chairs back and stood up.

“Are you getting picked up?”

“I drove, but I’ll walk with you.”

The two women thanked the remaining restaurant staff before heading out. Stevie’s slick limousine sat outside, and a group of curious bystanders milled about—eager to get a glimpse of the celebrity whose chariot awaited them.

Stevie’s driver smoothly opened the door for Stevie and Christine quickly bundled her inside. She gave her friend a big hug, wisps of Stevie’s hair sticking on her lips as they held each other for a long time.

“How long are you in L.A. for?” Stevie asked Christine when they pulled away.

“I haven’t set a time yet, maybe a few days or so?”

Stevie nodded. “We’ll do something before you leave. Call me.”

“Of course.” Christine pulled Stevie in for one final hug before stepping out of the limo.

“I love you, Christine,” Stevie told her fiercely. “I’m so, _so_ happy you’re back.”

It took a moment for Christine to respond, “I love you, too, gorgeous.” She blew her a kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

Christine walked backwards on to the pavement as the driver closed the door. She glanced at the strangers trying to peer into the limousine whispering, _“Was that Stevie Nicks?”_ and hid an amused smile. Stevie took off into the night and the crowd eventually dispersed. But Christine lingered with her hands in her jacket pockets, watching the long, black car until it was out of eyesight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The girls have reunited ☺ Thank you Katy (mastiffgirl) for being my Beta and helping me shape all the Buckingham Nicks interactions. I am clueless about the inner workings of that relationship and I am forever grateful for their input and guidance. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I’m hoping the next update won’t take as long! - Ava


	4. Chapter 4

Christine spent the next few days reaccustoming herself to California, throwing herself into almost everything the state had to offer. She enjoyed a beautiful scenic drive along Monterey and Carmel-by-the-Sea and hiked through the enchanting depths of Muir Woods in San Francisco. Christine even played tourist in Los Angeles, itself—a city she had once hated with a passion when her time with Fleetwood Mac had begun to lose its sparkle.

She indulged in a long shopping spree on Rodeo Drive, finding the saturated colours and unapologetic displays of materialism fun and entertaining. Christine had once led a very Hollywood lifestyle, after all. So it didn’t feel out of character to stroll into the glossy Prada store and feel right at home. Through her casual perusals, Christine found a gorgeous black leather jacket and decided to try it on. It fit her perfectly, and she felt empowered and confident. It was the kind of accessory she would wear on stage if Fleetwood Mac accepted her back in the band. Christine bought the jacket along with a pair of ankle boots and headed out onto the palm tree lined street with a slight spring in her step.

Christine had been in a joyful mood since her reunion dinner with the band. Though he hadn’t promised anything concrete, Christine felt Lindsey would eventually come around. They were duet partners for years and had always shared a musical connection. _World Turning_ and _Don’t Stop_ were songs she held very dear to her. Christine was hopeful they could create amazing work like that again.

As for Stevie, their candlelit talk was sweet. Christine had felt the undeniable stirring of something she had buried a long time ago. Something she thought she had gotten over. She had let herself get swept up in the moment, but the next morning was a sobering wake up call. Stevie was back at it with Lindsey, and Christine was focused on getting her feet wet again in the world of rock ‘n’ roll. If the two women were destined to reconnect, it would be as friends. Christine was okay with that.

She rounded off a successful day with a sunset walk down Santa Monica Pier. A pastel wonderland, Christine revelled in the lilting sounds of children laughing on the Ferris wheel, and the pleasant smell of cotton candy drifting through the ocean breeze. She finished paying for a hotdog when a teenage girl with long red hair and multiple bangles on her wrists approached her hesitantly.

“Excuse me. Are you Christine McVie?” the girl asked her.

“Oh. Yeah…yeah I am.” Christine replied, turning pink as the fan beamed in return. This was the first time she had been recognised in public in a while, and it flustered her a little.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening!” She squealed. “I saw a YouTube video of you performing in Maui and you were _so_ awesome. I’ve always been a huge fan of you!”

“On YouTube?” Christine blinked. “I’m on YouTube?”

The girl nodded excitedly, and Christine was touched by her endearing enthusiasm. “Someone uploaded it a few days ago. I couldn’t believe it. When I started listening to your music and found out you had left, I was so sad. You’re so talented and I love all your songs!”

“Wow, that is lovely to hear. Thank you.” Christine smiled and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Jade. This is so surreal,” she gushed, reaching in to her pocket for her phone. “Can I take a photo with you? My Dad is going to _die_ when he sees this!”

“Sure, darling.” Christine slung an arm around Jade’s shoulder and grinned into the iPhone camera lens.

Jade examined the photo. “It came out great, thank God. My hand was shaking. I can’t believe I’ve just met you!”

“No problem, Jade. Pleasure’s all mine.”

“I’ll let you go, then,” Jade said, shooting an awkward glance at the customers at the hotdog stand. People were beginning to stare. “Everyone probably tells you this, but I hope you join Fleetwood Mac again. It’s not the same without you!” She gave Christine a final grateful smile before skipping off onto the pier.

* * *

“…So, it was very touching that a young girl approached me,” Christine told John over the phone later that evening as she got ready for bed. Hearing that her music resonated with a teenager was inspiring, and Christine was sure she’d remember her encounter with Jade for the rest of her life. “I barely get recognised in England so I wasn’t expecting that here.”

“Your resurrected star power precedes you, love. I keep forgetting we have young fans. I feel like it’s a sea of oldies at our concerts, or maybe I’m just blind.”

“Maybe.” Christine laughed as she turned over the sheets and snuggled down in bed. “Anyway, I hope this is a sign your fans will react well if I return.”

“ _Our_ fans, Chris,” John gently admonished her. “Stevie was right, it’s your band just as much as ours.”

“It’s going to take me a while to see Fleetwood Mac as ‘my’ band again. I haven’t been officially invited back, yet!”

“Eh, I think you’re pretty much in. Lindsey’s just unnecessarily dramatic and difficult.”

Christine chuckled. “What’s new? But I get where he’s coming from. No one likes a spanner thrown into their perfectly constructed career plans, and he’s so happy with what Fleetwood Mac are doing right now.”

“More likely happy with what he and _Stevie_ are doing right now,” John muttered.

“ _Urgh_ , I have all sorts of disturbing images in my mind, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” John said cheerily. “I’m going to let you go, my dear. Goodnight.”

“’Night, Johnny.”

Lindsey and Stevie’s antics manifested into dreams that were vivid, sensory and very surrealist. Christine was performing on stage, watching Lindsey and Stevie sing to each other in obnoxious, screeching tones that drowned out her keyboards. She could hear her phone ring through her jeans pocket but she made no move to answer it. She had to finish Lindsey and Stevie’s song. She had to make them stop shouting.

Christine woke up disorientated and checked her notifications, realising she had a missed call from Stevie at 3:04am. She shook her head bemusedly, set her phone down and fell back asleep. It was just like Stevie to ring at an ungodly hour and unknowingly infiltrate Christine’s dream that starred her.

* * *

When Christine called Stevie in the afternoon, she wasn’t surprised to hear Stevie’s long-suffering assistant on the other end.

“She’s still sleeping,” Karen told her. “But Stevie wants you to come over at eight for dinner if you’re free.”

“Eight works for me.”

They said their goodbyes and Karen texted Stevie’s address seconds later. Christine looked up the complex to nosy around and was curious to see how Stevie had “Stevie-d” up her place. The building’s exterior looked flashy and worlds away from the singer’s desert rose hideout in Phoenix. Christine heard Stevie had sold that house a few years ago and wondered what had rooted her exclusively in California now.

Her questions were answered hours later when Stevie’s big doe eyes and makeup free face eagerly greeted Christine at her private elevator. She gave Christine a hug and led her inside. Stevie’s dog, Sulamith, sniffed Christine’s shoes and wagged her tail in excitement.

“Oh, how adorable!” Christine exclaimed as she handed Stevie a bouquet of purple lilies she had hastily bought before arriving. She picked up Sulamith and held the Chinese Crested Yorkie to her cheek, giggling as she licked her face happily.

“She loves you,” Stevie observed with a bright smile. “You’ve never met Sulamith before, have you?”

Christine nuzzled her face against the dog’s soft fur. “No, but I love her already. She makes me miss my Charlie.”

“Well, tonight will be just us. I told Karen to take the night off so we can hang out in private. No one else is coming,” Stevie added.

Christine carefully kept her facial expression neutral to hide her feelings of relief. She had been dreading the prospect of sitting through a night with Stevie’s large and loud collection of girlfriends. The gregarious girl was rarely alone, and Christine couldn’t comprehend her never-ending social battery.

“Come on, let me show you around!” Stevie said as she gently took her elbow while Sulamith snuggled further in Christine’s arms.

Stevie’s condo was cosy and sweet. A gypsy haven adorned in Stevie’s bohemian odds and ends, it looked very lived in. Totally unlike the palatial interior Christine had imagined. She smiled at the sight of the grand piano sitting majestically in one of the living rooms—not too dissimilar from her Steinway at home. Except Stevie’s was embellished with gothic candlesticks, a half moon tambourine and a glass stiletto.

Stevie led Christine out onto her balcony and they absorbed the breath taking view of the North Pacific Ocean. The waves swirled like black velvet dusted in moonlight, and the mountains were illuminated by the houses nestled within its canopy depths. Standing there with Stevie was like taking a trip back in time to 1976 in Sausalito. Though Christine liked to think they were significantly more mature and wiser than their twenty-seven and thirty-two year old past selves.

Stevie caught her smirk. “What’s so funny?”

“This reminds me of the view from our old condos in Sausalito. It’s very surreal standing here right now,” Christine explained.

“Yeah I can see that. I love sitting here at night and watching the sunrise,” Stevie said as she leaned her elbows on the railing. “It’s, like, my ritual before I go to bed.”

“Have you been to Sausalito since—“ Christine paused uncomfortably as she remembered the vivid details of their last trip there. “…since we went?”

Stevie shook her head and Christine saw her cheeks turn a slight tint of pink. “Nope. I haven’t had the time. Have you?”

“No. I’ve been meaning to, but other sites caught my attention. I feel like it’s something we should all do together.”

“Good luck convincing the boys. I know Lindsey will just brush it off and say he doesn’t have the time.” Stevie shook her head fondly and turned away from the view. “Let’s have dinner.”

They settled on one of the many plush couches in front of the fireplace and tucked in to some sushi Stevie and Karen had prepared earlier. Christine sat cross-legged facing Stevie with Sulamith curled up next to her. She loved how at home she felt at Stevie’s condo despite this being her first visit.

“You should take a photo of this spread and send it to Linds,” Christine suggested through a mouthful of salmon. “Disprove the ‘Stevie can’t cook’ theory once and for all.”

Stevie gave Christine a coy smile and took a sip of her water. “I think he’s still traumatised about the cheese omelettes and Hamburger Helpers I fed him when we were together.”

“I loved your omelettes! The bacon and mushroom ones were my favourite. I remember you learned how to make some curries, too.”

“What can I say? You brought out the domestic goddess in me when we were together.” Stevie shrugged and popped the remainder of her Californian roll in her mouth.

Christine smiled shyly and looked down at her plate. An emphatic silence descended upon the two women as memories of their past life together encircled them like butterflies—fragile, yet too beautiful to ignore. How many nights had Christine and Stevie spent on the couch, eating dinner and talking about anything and everything, even when their relationship began to fall apart?

_We are friends,_ Christine desperately chanted to herself as she felt Stevie’s softened gaze on her. _She’s shagging Lindsey._

“Lindsey’s going to come around,” Stevie insisted, and Christine looked up into Stevie’s eyes, which were now blazing and determined. “I know he wants you back in the band just as much as the rest of us do. I’m working on it.”

“You don’t have to work on anything, Stevie. That’s my job.” Christine reached out to tenderly squeeze her wrist. “You’re in the middle of cutting an EP, so just focus on that. How’s it going, by the way?”

Stevie’s face lit up. “Really good! We’re actually about to listen to the playback before we master it. You should come.”

“I don’t know if Lindsey will want me hovering around.”

Stevie gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I know him, and it’s gonna be okay. Seriously, come.”

“Alright.” Christine nodded, smiling hesitantly while Stevie beamed back at her.

* * *

It was around one am when Christine finally left Stevie’s condo. They had spent the remainder of the night sitting on the balcony under a blanket, drinking green tea and reminiscing about old times when Christine was in the band. Stevie had casually asked about her life in Kent, and Christine spoke about the good parts before subtly changing the subject. While she loved reconnecting with Stevie, there were some things she didn’t feel comfortable talking about just yet.

They stood in front of Stevie’s private elevator and Christine pulled her in for a long hug. She held onto Stevie for a beat longer than she intended and when they pulled back, Stevie gently ran her hand through Christine’s shaggy hair, her fingers briefly grazing her cheek.

“I’ll see you at Lindsey’s and I hope you decide to stay in L.A. longer,” Stevie told her.

“I’ll think about it,” Christine said. “I have my dog to get back to.”

Stevie nodded and they both looked at the elevator door as it opened. Before Christine stepped inside, Stevie interlaced her fingers through Christine’s and rubbed her knuckles with her thumb. It was an intimate gesture that left Christine feeling flustered and confused long after the door slid closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my Beta, Katy, for editing. I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far ☺


	5. Chapter 5

“Christine! Glad you could make it!”

“Er, yes. Hello, Lindsey.” Christine cautiously accepted his warm hug, unsure of what to do with the unexpected excitement and friendliness.

He led her into his home recording studio where Christine greeted the rest of the band and met their producer, Mitchell Broom. Stevie moved a stack of writing notebooks off a leather couch close to the soundboard and motioned for Christine to sit.

“How are you?” Stevie asked her happily, bending down to give Christine a kiss on the cheek.

“Good! Thanks for inviting me.” Christine touched Stevie’s beautiful diamond crescent moon necklace dangling in front of her. “I’ve seen photos of you wearing this but it’s even more gorgeous up close.”

“I’ll get you one!” Stevie exclaimed. “I’ve given the gold ones to people as a gift. But for you I want-“

“Can we start?” Lindsey interrupted Stevie loudly. “We’re kind of on a deadline here.”

Stevie pulled back from Christine and shot Lindsey a deadpan look. “Jesus, relax. You would think the world’s gonna end or something,” she muttered before gracefully dropping into a swivel chair next to him.

Christine sat back and drummed her fingers against the armrest, curious about what she was going to hear. She had listened to _Say You Will,_ it oozed Buckingham Nicks sensuality and Christine anticipated this EP would capture the same tone. Lindsey and Stevie spoke about the record as if it was God’s gift to music, so Christine had high expectations.

The first song, _Sad Angel,_ played through the sound system, and Christine immediately readjusted her standards. It was frantic and jangly with Lindsey passionately singing about swords and falling to earth together—standard Lindsey and Stevie dramatics. Christine watched amusedly as Lindsey closed his eyes and listened to the fruits of his labour in a meditative state. She made eye contact with a bored John who rolled his eyes, and she quickly stifled a laugh. Christine had missed mucking around with him while Lindsey and Stevie took themselves too seriously.

The infamous duet, _Without You,_ was a jam session that reminded Christine of their work from _Behind The Mask_. It was an ironic comparison given Lindsey wasn’t even a part of that record. This howling duet was clearly written during a time when the pair were happy and madly in love. Christine could see echoes of their epic romance now. The scene before her was like a romantic Renaissance painting: Stevie had moved her chair closer to Lindsey’s, her hair shrouding her face as she whispered something in his ear while he gazed intently at her. Their conversation was akin to making love, with hushed words and looks of intense longing replacing fingernails digging into sweaty skin and desperate, needy caresses. Christine’s skin prickled uncomfortably as she stared at the display of raw intimacy right in front of her. She suddenly wished she were as far away from Lindsey and Stevie as humanly possible.

Christine remained in a despondent state through _It Takes Time_. Her mind jolted back into the room whenever Lindsey’s jagged vocals pushed down on the bland and repetitive chord progressions like a manic fever dream. But _Miss Fantasy_ sounded like something she and Lindsey might have collaborated on back in the day; it was hook-y, fun, and definitely her favourite song on the EP. It gave her a little bit of hope that she could fit in with the direction the band was heading.

“That was good!” Lindsey said when it ended. “I think this bodes well with what we wanted to achieve. I’d go as far as to say it’s the best stuff we’ve done in a while.”

“Yeah, you can tell they’re very personal, y’know?” Stevie chipped in. “I always say, like, when I hear my songs played back to me, I want to feel the same way I felt when I was alone at my piano writing them for the first time. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside when I heard _Without You_. I just love that song.”

“Great.” Lindsey smiled at her. “That’s perfect.”

Christine wanted to vomit.

“The fans are _definitely_ going to lap up _Without You_ ,” Mick predicted. “So let’s master it and get this thing on the road.”

“Yes, that all sounds good to me,” John said airily, and Christine could tell he was done for the day. “I disagree with you about this being ‘our best stuff’ though, Linds. Don’t get me wrong; it’s great. But I will always stand by my belief that our best stuff featured Christine.”

Now Christine wanted to vanish into thin air.

Lindsey laughed humourlessly and the atmosphere in the room immediately shifted from buoyant and euphoric, to tense and resentful. Standard Fleetwood Mac.

“That’s completely fine you feel that way, John,” Lindsey said in a patronising tone Christine knew very well. “But Christine hasn’t contributed for what, sixteen years now? We’ve had a significant catalogue since then, and-“

“Well, technically that’s not true.” Christine piped up and looked at him steadily. The blunt, ‘take no prisoners’ side to her was ready to emerge like it used to whenever Lindsey tried to undermine anyone’s hard work. “Two of your songs on _Say You Will_ featured my backing vocals and keyboards. Sure they were recycled material from your old solo catalogue, but the royalties I made from them helped renovate my guesthouse. So, yeah, I would call that a contribution.”

Mick let out a booming laugh while Lindsey had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

“What I _meant_ was you haven’t been around. The four of us have made a record, toured twice, and we’re about to tour again in two months. We’ve worked hard and-“

“Would you like a pat on the back?” Christine cut across him with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re not getting it. I-“

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” Stevie muttered and squeezed his wrist lightly. She looked at Christine, and Christine was surprised to see her eyes radiating simple curiosity, as opposed to anger over her man being slighted. “What do you think about the EP, Chris?”

Christine stroked her silk scarf between her fingers and considered her words carefully. Back in the day, she would not have held her tongue. Words like _“boring”_ , _“sounds dodgy”_ and _“What the fuck is this?”_ used to easily fall out of her mouth when she was presented with Lindsey or Stevie’s patchouli-and-brandy laced demos and mixes. But that was during a time when they were all on the same page. Now, Christine was still an outsider, and her attempts to reconnect with Lindsey were hanging by a thread. She glanced at Lindsey’s agitated demeanour and decided a tactful response was the only way to go.

“It’s very…you two,” Christine said. “You discussed over dinner about how the record speaks to your relationship transcending through time or whatever. The lyrics definitely showcase that.” She glanced at Stevie. “Was that you on the keyboards in the third song?”

“No, that was all me,” Lindsey immediately answered.

“Oh. Well, I thought that was Stevie. It sounded like the chord progressions she uses in her demos.”

“In other words, boring,” Stevie said with a chuckle.

Lindsey was practically fuming. “I wanted a simple melody! To me, it sounds very haunting and enhances what I’m singing about. I’m sorry I’m not a piano virtuoso.”

“Yeah I know that. I’m not arguing with you, Lindsey-“

“What about my song?” Stevie gave Lindsey another comforting look as she nervously played with her hair. “What did you think about _Without You?_ ”

Christine smiled wanly at her, figuring she might as well be completely honest. “Mick’s right. The fans will love it, especially because you wrote it in such a beautiful, untainted time in your relationship. But I find the lead guitar too loud and distracting. It would have been nice to include some keyboards, but I get that you guys weren’t going for a full-blown arrangement. I love your drumming, though, Mick.” She nodded at him. “The brushes were a great choice.”

“It’s such a special song to me,” Stevie replied in a hurt voice, clearly let down by the lack of praise. “I thought I had lost it forever, but I found it on the Internet one day and I couldn’t believe it. It was, like, destiny for us to record it again.”

“That’s fine!” Christine held up her hands in defeat. “Don’t worry about it. I had nothing to do with this record so don’t take my input too seriously. You asked me what I thought, and I told you honestly. That’s how I’ve always been and you guys know that.”

“Yeah.” Stevie got up and picked up a notebook from the pile she had moved earlier, not looking at Christine all the while. “You said that _Dreams_ was boring and it ended up being our only number one hit, so…”

“She didn’t find it boring after I put together three sections of identical chords she really liked,” Lindsey reminded her.

“Whatever.” Stevie sighed loudly, signalling the end of her participation in their conversation.

“I enjoyed the last song, it had a fun hook.” Christine offered lamely into the awkward silence. But it was obvious by the sulky looks on both Lindsey and Stevie’s faces that the compliment fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Christine’s critiques ended up triggering an argument between Stevie and Lindsey as they second-guessed their work and slung accusatory insults at each other. Christine felt awful. She stood with Mick and John outside the studio, staring anxiously into the doorway as Lindsey and Stevie carried on inside, their voices getting louder and louder.

“I feel like I should go in and say something,” Christine murmured. “The only reason they’re having a row is because of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. You know they will use any excuse to starting fighting with each other,” John drawled as he lit a cigarette. “They’ll get over it in about ten minutes.”

“This is all your fault by the way.” Christine glared at him. “Why did you have to make that comment about Fleetwood Mac’s best work featuring me? Look what you started.”

“It’s true.” John shrugged nonchalantly as he took a long, relaxed drag. “ _Little Lies_ and _Everywhere_ get so much radio play I change the channel every time I hear it. Plus, Lindsey and his over-inflated ego needed to be brought back down to earth.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Christine considered. “I did write all of the big hits.”

“Except for _Dreams_. It’s our only number one hit, right? Right?” Mick joked, mimicking Stevie’s voice to a tee, and Christine couldn’t help but let out a bitchy-sounding snort.

* * *

Christine returned to Mick’s house deflated and also a bit ashamed by her behaviour at Lindsey’s. She made herself a cup of tea, moodily stirring in the milk as she reflected on her tense exchange with Lindsey and Stevie. While she stood by her review on the EP and felt her opinions were valid, Christine knew where her bad attitude stemmed from. Watching Lindsey and Stevie interact the way they did made her feel jealous and insecure, and she wished Stevie hadn’t been so touchy-feely when Christine had hung out with her at her condo. It was just like Stevie to unintentionally lead people on and give mixed signals while she was preoccupied and attached to someone else.

Stevie had let Christine know in her brusque, direct way that while she was hurt over Christine’s comments, she still wanted to see her again if Christine apologised. Christine had rolled her eyes internally at Stevie’s entitled diva behaviour. After a few hours filled with Stevie and Lindsey’s tantrums, she was struggling to stay motivated to re-join the band. Though, Christine suspected she had blown her chance after today, anyway. Lindsey’s stiff goodbye when she had left his house indicated he was looking forward to not seeing her for another four years.

Wanting to shake off her funk, Christine went out for dinner with Mick and a few industry friends she had lost touch with during her wilderness years. She spoke about Stevie and Lindsey’s drama, and they all encouraged her to try to offer the first olive branch. She was going back to England in two days, so it was a good idea to pick her battles and try to leave on a positive note. Christine thought about it, and eventually decided to call Stevie and try to explain herself without sounding like a grovelling yes-woman.

“Hey, Chris,” Stevie answered just before the call went to her voicemail, a very Stevie thing to do when she was in a petty mood.

Christine glanced at the clock: 1:18 am. “I figured you’d be awake at this time. Are you busy?”

“No. I’m just watching TV. I’m catching up on _General Hospital_.”

“Right.” Christine smiled. “I know you love that show and you hate being interrupted when you’re watching it. I’m surprised you answered the phone.”

“You’re leaving in two days so I will always answer your calls, Chris,” Stevie said with a sad sigh. “I’m mad at you but I still wanna talk to you. I know that’s not what I normally do, but I’m scared you’ll leave and I’ll never see you again.”

Christine blinked, taken aback by Stevie’s vulnerable revelation. She had not expected that, and her heart went out to her friend. Christine tightly wrapped her blanket around her, wishing it were Stevie she was hugging instead.

“You will see me again, gorgeous,” Christine reassured her softly. “Even if you and the boys have decided you don’t want me in the band, I will still come and see you. You know I’m over my fears. Our relationship will be better than it was before.”

“We still want you back!” Stevie insisted. “Actually, Lindsey was saying it made sense why you liked _Miss Fantasy_. I know he misses collaborating with you on upbeat, happy songs. You know me…that’s not really my style.”

“Oh, I know.” Christine laughed. “Well, I’m sorry for the way I acted today and if I came across a bit snooty and bitchy. I will say this, Stevie: you know I’m a blunt person. I tell it like it is and keep it moving. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know your songs mean a lot to you and you’re fiercely protective over them. I think Lindsey’s shitty comments set me off, too.”

“Yeah, I brought that up when I fought with him. That was a totally shitty thing for him to say and I get why you were upset. The fans loved the songs you were a part of on _Say You Will_.”

“Well, thanks for acknowledging my frustrations, Stevie.” Christine then decided to throw away the olive branch and offer up the whole bloody tree. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’ll be at Lindsey’s in the afternoon but I have the night off.”

“Do you want to come over and I will cook us dinner? I can pick you up and drive you back, if you like. Give Karen another night off.”

“Aren’t you leaving the day after? You should be resting tomorrow night, not entertaining me. I would love to see you though!” Stevie hastily added.

“No, it’s fine. I’m catching an afternoon flight. Unless you want to go out somewhere?”

Christine could practically hear the cogs nervously turning through Stevie’s brain as she desperately tried to predict what Lindsey would say and do if he found out. Christine rubbed her eyes tiredly. _Why do things have to be so bloody complicated? It’s only dinner, for fuck’s sake._

“Yeah, alright, I’ll come over,” Stevie decided. “Pick me up at eight?”

Christine grinned. “Done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the funny drama! :P A huge thank you to my Beta, Katy (sunset-dreaming), for helping me craft Christine’s critiques on the EP as I don’t have much of a musical ear. Katy’s a very talented singer and drummer so I am grateful for her input. I am always learning great things from her! 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter…xx


	6. Chapter 6

Christine drove with one arm casually slung over the steering wheel while the other was poised out the window, the smooth evening L.A. breeze weaving through her fingers like a satin ribbon. She curled her knuckles, trying to hold onto it forever; a memento she wanted to take with her to England. Christine smiled as a feathery contralto voice harmonised with the poppy Lady Gaga song playing on the radio, and turned to look at Stevie sitting in the front seat with a content Sulamith in her lap.

“I didn’t know you liked Lady Gaga?”

“Oh my God, I _adore_ her,” Stevie gushed. “I’ve choreographed dances to her music and I’ve met her a couple of times, too. She’s a really nice girl.”

“Wow, I can’t even remember the last famous person I met,” Christine muttered as she pulled up to Mick’s gate and leaned out the window to punch in the security code. “Not surprising considering I’ve been living in a cave for the past hundred years, anyway.”

“Well, next time I get invited to an event you should come with me and meet some people.”

“I’ll be your hot date.” Christine grinned.

“I can see the caption in the magazines now,” Stevie mused while she scratched Sulamith behind her ears. “ _’Christine McVie and friend at the American Music Awards After Party’.”_

“Sounds good to me,” Christine said as she parked the car in front of Mick’s garage. “Stevie Nicks referred to as my nameless friend will be a much needed ego boost.”

They made their way to the front door just as Mick opened it to let himself out. He gave the women a jovial smile and bent down to pat Sulamith who wriggled happily in Stevie’s arms.

“Hello, lovely!”

“No hello for me?” Stevie pouted up at him.

“Hi, Stephanie.” Mick kissed the top of her head.

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Christine asked him.

“No, darling. I have better people to see and better places to be,” Mick answered vaguely and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you both later.”

They said their goodbyes and Stevie stared after the towering, eccentric man as he bounced down the steps. “You English people have a strange sense of humour.”

“You love it.” Christine threw Stevie a vivacious smile as she led her inside. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said as she threw her car key and phone on the kitchen island and opened the fridge. “Can I get you a drink first? Sparkling water with lemon?”

"Yes, please.”

Stevie sat at the kitchen table while Christine tied her hair up and prepared Enchiladas Rojas, an authentic Mexican dish she knew Stevie would love. The mouth-watering smell of guajillo peppers and garlic simmered in the air as Christine efficiently stirred through the sauce, while a watchful Sulamith panted eagerly by Stevie’s feet. While they waited for the tortillas to finish frying in the skillet, Stevie insisted on ‘making herself useful’, and began grating some cheese onto a cutting board with a look of intense concentration on her face.

“You are so adorable, Stevie,” Christine told her, taking the crispy enchiladas out of the pan and filling them with generous helpings of pre-made spicy chicken.

Stevie shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll add ‘grated cheese’ to the list of foods I can make.”

Christine slid the steaming meals on to two plates, adding a liberal amount of cheese while Stevie went for a dainty sprinkle. They sat side by side and the kitchen was soon filled with sounds of clanking plates and cutlery as they hungrily dug in.

“Mmm, I’ve missed your cooking,” Stevie moaned as she took an indulgent bite.

“Not too spicy?”

Stevie shook her head, running a neat square of enchilada through the jewel red sauce. “Just right.”

“You should come and stay with me in England for a bit. You know I’ll gladly cook for you,” Christine said as she took a sip of water. “But I suppose you won’t have the time when you go on tour.”

“You can always come with us.”

“Oh yeah. I can be the band’s personal chef.”

“ _Or,_ you can surprise our fans like in you did in Maui and come on stage with us,” Stevie suggested with a hopeful tilt of her head.

“If Lindsey gets over being cranky at me, then sure.”

“He’s just very sensitive about his music…and so am I,” Stevie added with a pointed look.

“I know you are. That’s what makes you two so good together.” Christine couldn’t help a slight note of sarcasm creeping in to her voice. ”Soul mates, or whatever.”

Stevie stared at her. A spark of unmistakable annoyance ignited in her eye as she processed Christine’s passive-aggressive comment. The spark grew into furious, unsaid accusations: _“Are you disrespecting mine and Lindsey’s work? Our story? Our chemistry?”_ and Christine recoiled slightly, bracing herself for Stevie’s wrath. But with a dismissive jerk of her chin, Stevie pulled back as tendrils of hair fell across her face like a gossamer veil as she shut down. She pushed the remainder of her food around her plate with her fork in a robotic fashion. The grating scrape of silver against ceramic caused Christine’s heart to beat erratically as she realised she had completely and utterly fucked up.

“Stevie…” Christine began as her mind scrambled for ways to do damage control. Stevie impatiently tucked her hair behind her ear and Christine watched as a thick, shimmery lock cascaded down and curled itself over the curve of her breast. True to Stevie’s style, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and a swell of supressed lust surged into Christine’s belly. She eyed the deep cleft in Stevie’s cleavage, and very faintly, the outline of a nipple peeking through the slightly sheer fabric of her black peasant top. Christine’s core ached at the sight, and she quickly crossed her legs to try to relieve herself.

Stevie’s eyes flicked down to where Christine’s gaze lingered and looked back up at her.

“Are you staring at my tits?”

The word tumbled out of Christine’s mouth before she could stop herself:

“Yes.”

Stevie took a sharp sip of water, a pink flush blooming in her cheeks as her chest rose and fell in time with her quickening heartbeat. She was clearly turned on, and the niggling of past memories threatened to sabotage her attempts to remain angry and offended.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Stevie muttered under her breath as she turned her attention back to her food. Christine couldn’t tell whether the comment was directed at her, or if Stevie was chastising her body for caving in to her acute desires.

They finished the rest of their dinner in silence while Sulamith padded back and forth between them, confused at the sudden absence of happy chatter and noise. Despite the tension, the two women cleaned up collaboratively. Stevie washed and dried the dishes and Christine wiped the counter and stove tops, desperately thinking of how to salvage the night.

An idea formed. It was bold and daring, yet guaranteed to make Stevie laugh—an old trick from their relationship past. She quickly washed her hands and checked to make sure Stevie was suitably distracted before reaching inside her blouse to unclasp her bra. Removing it with a deft flourish, Christine slowly approached Stevie from behind and tapped her on the shoulder.

“What?” Stevie snapped, turning from the freezer with a pint of vanilla bean gelato in her hands.

With a cheeky smirk, Christine lifted her shirt and revealed her pert, bare breasts to a stunned Stevie.

“Here, stare at them all you like. It’s only fair,” she said, adding a little shimmy to her shoulders so her tits bounced slightly.

And stare, Stevie did. The rosy blush permeated her cheeks once again and she made a noise at the back of her throat akin to a tortured grunt.

“I, um— _fuck_ ,” Stevie stuttered, quickly catching the sweating pint when it nearly slipped from her grasp. She let out a peal of nervous giggles, which quickly transformed into a cackle so infectious that Christine fell apart, too. She let her shirt fall back down as she doubled down with laughter, grasping Stevie’s waist to steady herself.

“And people say I’m the crazy one.” Stevie said when she finally caught her breath. Her voice was light, but the darting brown eyes suggested she was still ruminating over the earlier unpleasantness.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Christine asked her quietly.

Stevie thought about it before shaking her head with a resigned sigh. “Can you please get me a spoon?” she asked, twisting off the gelato lid.

* * *

Christine turned to the cutlery drawer and smiled smugly to herself, thrilled she and her 69 year old knockers had somehow managed to pull Stevie back in.

Christine reclined on the couch in the recreational room with Sulamith curled up against her chest. She had unearthed one of Stevie’s favourite records—Joni Mitchell’s _For the Roses_ —from Mick’s record collection and it played unobtrusively in the background. Stevie waved her spoon in time to Joni’s haunting melodies and Christine tilted her head back, closing her eyes. She let the beautiful music wash over her and thought about her piano waiting back home; the muses were calling and she couldn’t wait to begin.

“I’m getting, like, serious flashbacks watching you cuddle with Sula like that,” Stevie said suddenly, disrupting Christine’s musical contemplations.

“Of what?”

Stevie gave her a wistful, lopsided smile. “Rosie and Layla.”

“Oh,” Christine breathed as she hugged Sulamith tighter. “I really miss those beautiful babies. When you called me both times after they died…I cried for a week straight.”

Stevie looked stricken. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have flown over to be with you.”

“You were in the middle of putting together an album. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Stevie clucked her tongue and set her finished dessert on the coffee table. She scooted close to Christine and placed her hand on her knee.

“Rosie and Layla were our girls,” Stevie murmured and Christine’s heart panged at the tremor in her voice. “I’d look at them and think of you…and when we were together. Those two years meant the world to me. I hope you know that, Chris.”

Christine nodded, her throat constricting slightly. She stroked Sulamith’s downy hair, the soft strands trailing over her knuckles as she mulled over Stevie’s raw, earnest words. She gazed at her ex-girlfriend: the once love of her life, the woman who inspired her—even when their beautiful world collapsed around them like a glass castle after a violent storm.

“I do know that. It was probably the most intense and breath-taking relationship I’d ever had in my life,” Christine revealed and Stevie squeezed her knee, drawing slow, soothing circles and encouraging her to continue. “I’m sorry I made that snarky comment about you and Lindsey before. That was very immature of me.”

The nail gliding softly over Christine’s knee abruptly ceased its movements, and Stevie slowly withdrew her hand. Christine saw the guilt filter into her eyes, saw the shift in Stevie’s expression as she thought about Lindsey and her loyalty to him.

“Can I be completely honest?” Christine pressed on. “It was quite hard watching you and Lindsey interact at his house the other day. I was jealous. Seeing you two together again reminded me of _The Dance_...and that was a shitty time, to put it mildly.”

Stevie nodded slowly, putting the pieces together. “I could sense you were jealous, yeah. I’m sorry it took you back to a bad time in your life. We didn’t mean to make you feel that way. But Lindsey and I are Lindsey and I. I can’t really control what happens between us. We just, well…” Stevie trailed off, trying to find the words to describe she and Lindsey’s wild dalliance.

“Can’t help but slide back into it?” Christine finished for her dryly.

“Yeah.” Stevie ran her hair through her hair and exhaled dramatically. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

They were quiet for a moment, listening to Joni passionately croon about running in the woods and springing from the boulders like a mama lion.

_“So when the hopes got so slim  
I just resigned  
But I'd still like to see you sometime  
I'd sure like to see you.”_

“Can you try and call me every day when you’re back home?” Stevie asked Christine as the end piano note faded away. “Even if we talk for, like, two minutes. Or send me sms messages, whatever. I just want to know you’re okay and doing as great as you are now. And please come and see me here or wherever we are when we’re touring.”

“Definitely,” Christine promised.

* * *

By 12:26am, Stevie, Christine, and Sulamith were still on Mick’s sofa. A movie played on the giant, flat screen television and some time within the first half hour, Christine found herself lying down with her head in Stevie’s lap. She couldn’t remember how she had ended up in that position; she blamed the magnetic pull they had always felt towards each other. Like a streaming brook, an electric current that coursed between them, still strong and ever present as it was 38 years ago.

Subtle scents of tuberose and gardenia settled over Christine like a comforting blanket as she lazily watched the screen through half lidded eyes. Stevie’s dainty fingers stroked through Christine’s hair; the gentle rhythmic motions felt like music being etched into her mind and soul. Stevie’s song to Christine reassuring her she will always be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Katy, as always for your beta-ing and support. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! X


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